[Illustration: "IT IS YOURSELF _VERSUS_ THE POLICE."]
"Now Bill goes straight away to the police office and states that you have murdered his uncle. When you come to, you are surrounded by about twenty members of the police force, the chief of whom slips the handcuffs over your wrists. With one wrench you snap the chain and are free!"
"With _one_ wrench?" asked Percy, to be sure he was getting the details correctly.
"With one wrench. Then ensues another big struggle. This time it is yourself _versus_ the police."
"Quite right. After some time you show signs of weakening, and the police look like getting the upper hand."
"But just then Mignon, the old man's daughter, emerges from behind a screen. She tells the police the facts and proclaims your absolute innocence."
[Illustration: "YOU ARE SEEN FALLING, FALLING, FALLING."]
"The chief of the police thereupon shakes you by the hand and apologises. You indicate that it will now be your life's work to bring the assassin, Bill, to justice, and then you quit. I should mention that before leaving you fall in love with Mignon, and promise that on your return you'll marry her at once. That parting scene will want a bit of acting. Your countenance must show successive degrees of pain, as if you had eaten something that was disagreeing with your digestion; and you mustn't omit the most effective suffering expression of all--chin raised, mouth open, eyelids closed tightly--just as if you were about to sneeze. You'll find your experience on the stage quite useful, you know."
"Now you are out in the street. You seize the first motor-car at hand, and start off on the grand hunt after Bill. Through the crowded streets, out into the country highway, you fly at a terrific speed. Up the mountain passes you race, down precipitous slopes with every-increasing momentum. Every moment, it seems, will be your last. But you come safely through."
"That is to say--almost. Unfortunately, in turning a sharp corner, the car plunges into the waters of a rapid mountain torrent!"
"You are seen falling, falling, falling, still in your car, with the descending cataract. Over and over you are turned in the seething waters, dashed against rocks, hurled through ravines, and finally you are given a sheer drop down a perpendicular waterfall of three hundred feet. Out of the white foam formed in the bed of the waters you emerge swimming strongly hand over hand, until at last you reach the broad waters of the placid river, and finally the shore. Here you notice a train passing some little distance away, and in it, gazing out of one of the windows, you observe--Bill, the murderer! You at once start in pursuit; by a superb effort you catch up the train, and just succeed in swinging yourself safely on board. You can do a little sprinting, I suppose?"